


The Sun Always Shines on TV

by barakatballs



Category: Raske Menn, Ylvis
Genre: Banders, M/M, Yes first Banders ever woot woot, i tried comedy here, idk how that worked, teen!AU, um i guess Teen!AU, yes this that is an a-ha song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-01-20 11:57:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1509647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barakatballs/pseuds/barakatballs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders and Bård will not deny they love each other. But with age difference coming between them, could things ever work?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First Banders! WOO  
> Can I say I'm very proud on how I wrote this, my writing has improved greatly and it makes me full happy. Now I experimented in writing some form of comedy [I have mixed feelings on how it turned out] and well you'll see for yourself. Enjoy!

Vegard felt his heart in his throat. His breathing sped up by the second; his hands became clammy and shaky. He was going to have a panic attack.

The nineteen year old felt firm hands clutch his quivering shoulders, hearing a reassuring voice say, “Vegard! _Calm down.”_  

“Calm down?” Vegard questioned, spinning around and grabbing both of Calle’s hands in a tight grasp. “How can I calm down if I _don’t know where my brother is?”_

“You’re not gonna find out if you pass out!” Calle shouted, shaking Vegard a little bit to put some sense in the anxious young man. “Anders and Øyvind have a perimeter on this place; he couldn’t have gone too far. Where did you last see him?”

Vegard’s breathing gradually slowed as he recollected his thoughts. “We were walking right behind you guys down the street…”

“Okay,” Calle nodded as he remembered, “we were heading to the restaurant and that’s when you noticed he wasn’t behind you anymore.”

“It was so crowded,” Vegard said in a whisper, “and Bård kept on stopping at every attraction, acting like he was six, and we kept on falling behind and, and, and…” 

“And what,” Calle asked seriously. “Vegard, what did you do?”

Vegard stared at his sneakers, avoiding eye contact with the tall blonde in front of him. “He was annoying me, Calle. I didn’t even want him to come. My ma made him tag along because she didn’t want him to feel left out.”

“Well, Bård is sixteen, “Calle added, “and we’re all pushing twenty here, Vegard. Hell, Anders is twenty-two; he’s going to feel left out anyway.” 

“And it was my job not to make him feel that way, god dammit” Vegard muttered, he shook his head, small dark curls bouncing on his forehead. “I snapped, Calle.”

Calle raised an eyebrow. “Snapped?”

“He was embarrassing me, falling behind and acting childish,” Vegard began to confess. “I told him to fuck off, just to get away from my sight. I didn’t look for a reaction; I turned my head and kept walking. Guilt began to build so I wanted to apologize, but when I turned around, he wasn’t there anymore.” 

Calle was speechless.

Vegard was all but choking on tears. “I treated him like shit, ignoring him as if he was nothing then snapping at him just to scare him away. And now he’s fucking missing.”

“We’ll find him,” Calle reassured, pulling Vegard into a comforting hug. “We’ll find him and bring him back.”

+

It has been at least twenty minutes and Bård was nowhere to be seen. Øyvind was instructed by Calle to search for the young teenager in every store, so the tall man kept his eyes open for a light brown-haired boy wearing a blue t-shirt with the _Superman_ logo printed on it. 

Twice has Øyvind tapped the shoulders of teens that looked like the young Ylvisåker, and even thought he was already in the tenth store down the road, he still had no luck. Øyvind tried not to worry as much – Vegard was close to losing his sanity and Calle became more anxious by the second – someone had to stay in control. So he tried to be optimistic. Possibly, Bård ran back home or maybe he was already with Vegard, reconciling as they embraced in a brotherly hug.

But even the tough Øyvind couldn’t deny the possibility that something bad could have happened to Bård, and his apprehension drove him to look harder and quicker – before it was too late.

After no luck in the current store, Øyvind ran across the street to restaurants – maybe Bård was sulking as he ate a slice of pizza – when his phone began to ring: _Carl Fredrick_

“Hallo?” Øyvind walked into the Italian restaurant, peering over heads. “Have you found him yet?”

“Nei,” Calle answered in a whisper, his free hand rubbing Vegard’s back. “Have you?”

“Nei, I’m checking the restaurants right now.” He walked into the next one. “It’s been half an hour I don’t know where he is, he couldn’t have gone too far.”

“What about Anders?” Calle asked, “Where’s he?”

“We split up. Anders is searching the alleys and isolated areas, you know…just in case.”

Vegard was trembling under Calle’s touch when he heard no news about finding Bård, and in a hoarse whisper he cursed himself, “I’m a horrible brother.” 

Calle moved his head away from his cell phone as he rubbed Vegard’s back in an assuring way. “He’s going to be fine.”

“Øyvind,” Calle said into the phone, “keep checking, though I’m sure Anders is going to find Bård soon.”

“What makes you say that?”

Calle grinned – it was probably a bad time to bring this up but he felt he needed to say it. “You know Anders’ crush on Bård, the rascal is probably hunting like a hound looking for him.” 

Vegard’s teary eyes shot up towards Calle. “You’re making jokes at this time?!” 

Øyvind heard a slap meet flesh and a “ _FUCK!”_ before the call disconnected. “God damn it, Calle.”

+

Bård winced in pain. He was lying against a dumpster, his nose scrunched at the pungent smell, but it did help distract him from the aching pain from his sprained ankle. Dried tears were plastered on his freckled face; his lower lip raw from the rough chewing Bård inflicted on himself to conceal his cries of pain.

Even in his situation, Bård didn’t want to be found.

He was hurt, dejected, injured, and he wanted to stay that way. In fact, as cruel payback, Bård wanted Vegard to worry, for Vegard to regret the words he spat. So he stayed hidden, behind a dumpster. He would have run further, maybe back home, but his swift foot stumbled, twisted dreadfully, and now he couldn’t walk, let alone run. Bård dragged himself, wincing and cursing with every move he made, and now here he was, avoiding help like the stubborn boy he was.

+

Anders grew up as an only child in Oslo, so he had no say in what Vegard was feeling at the moment, but he could relate with the immense pounding in his chest.

Anders had met Bård only five weeks ago, a brief meeting at the curb by Calle’s house where they awkwardly shook hands and introduced themselves, yet over the weeks, the two boys – despite the major age difference of six years – became close friends. It was a relief for Bård who, being the baby of the group, was the odd one out, not knowing what to do or say to fit in with the older boys. For that, Anders felt a sense of pity for Bård and being a native of Oslo, he had only lived in Fana, Bergen for six years, he knew how it was to feel left out. The two fit like a puzzle; they talked constantly in person and on the phone, shared similar interests, respected each other, and that was when Anders realized he was developing a crush on the blue-eyed Ylvisåker. 

He resisted his feelings at first – the relationship he desired with Bård could never happen; it was _illegal._ Bård had recently turned sixteen; Anders was turning twenty-three this upcoming June, it wouldn’t be right. Anders feared if Bård got too close, he wouldn’t be able to control himself, so for the past week, Anders kept his distance. It hurt Bård, made him wonder, had he lost his best friend? It pained Anders to see Bård so depressed, but the consequences were too dire. How would his family react if he was in a relationship with an _older_ man? How would the small community accept them? It was the best for the both of them.

But now, Anders could no longer hold his distance; he _needed_ to find Bård. Sliding on his sneakers, Anders made his seventh stop by an empty alley, teeming with trash. Still, Anders checked, pinching the bridge of his nose as he made his way through. It must have been eight o’clock already, the dim light of the lamps aiding Anders. He called for Bård as he thoroughly searched the alley, looking inside the dumpsters, stopping when he heard a sudden yelp of pain. Anders didn’t delay to identify the voice, he ran.

+

He thought he could get up, pushing himself up for leverage, yet Bård’s hands slipped, the pain rushing inside him instantly as his foot smacked against the ground, a cry of pain escaping his dry lips. Immediately, he clasped his hand over his mouth, trying to deafen his sobs but to no avail. Bård whimpered helplessly. Now, he desperately wanted to be found, just for someone to take him home, but it had been at least an hour, maybe more, and it was getting late. Bård began to doubt anyone was looking for him - Vegard, Calle, Øyvind, _Anders?_ The broken boy gave up, silently crying to himself, hopefully to sleep. 

“There you are!”

Teary eyes shot open to see a pair of long legs in jeans, they slowly rose up to see Anders sighing in relief. Bård’s lips formed a smile. “Anders.”

“We’ve been looking for you for hours.” Anders crouched down, placing his hand on Bård’s arm. “Vegard’s worried sick.”

 _Oh Vegard, Bård_ thought. The young boy knew how to keep a grudge. “That’s his problem.”

Anders scoffed and smacked Bård’s shoulder.

“Ow!” Bård yelped, clutching his shoulder as if it was falling apart. “Why did you do that for?”

“For acting like you don’t care” Anders stated. “Your brother was close to having a heart attack, and you act as if it was nothing. I don’t know what he did but I’m damn sure you know he didn’t mean it.”

Bård was taken back by Anders’ words; the older man was telling the truth. Guilt began to wash over him. Bård knew he was ticking off Vegard, especially after he disobeyed and ignored his older brother. Sure, things were tense between them when it came to hanging out with friends. Vegard wanted to be regarded as “cool” and that couldn’t happen if he was babysitting his teenage brother. Bård just wanted to make things right.

“I’m sorry…” Bård choked out, a tear trickling down his cheek. Anders sighed softly, and while still keeping a short distance, he leaned close to wipe the tear away.

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing too.” Anders moved his hand on top of Bård’s. “Let’s take you home.”

Bård looked down at Anders’ hand on his own, a frown on his lips. “But…but I can’t walk.”

“What?” Anders tilted his head in concern. “What happened?”

“I slipped and I think I broke my left ankle.” 

Anders looked at the foot adorned in a red sneaker. Carefully, Anders placed a finger on the spot and felt a small bump.

Bård winced and hissed in pain; Anders took his hand away, looking up. “Right there?”

“Yes.” Bård nodded. “I can’t move.” 

Anders whipped out his cell phone to dial Calle but cursed. “There’s no signal here.” 

“I think there’s store around here,” Bård suggested. “You could ask if they have a telephone.”

Anders shook his head. “There’s no time for that.”

“Well what are you –whoa!” Bård yelped when he felt Anders’ arms hook around his back and legs. “What the hell are you doing?” 

Anders ignored Bård as he lifted the boy up to carry him bridal style. “Take a wild guess.”

“You’re gonna smell,” Bård protested.

Anders scrunched his nose. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

Bård laughed. “It’s good to see you Anders.”

“Likewise,” Then Anders added, “Now tell me if this hurts.” Anders took careful steps; he wanted to make sure the movement didn’t irritate the wound.

“I’m fine,” Bård stated, yawning afterwards, “Though I’m very sleepy.”

Anders felt Bård gently rest his head on his chest, looking down he saw eyelids becoming heavy until Bård was fully asleep in his arms.

“Oh my God,” Anders said to himself as he began walking back. “What are the boys going to think?”

+

Vegard breathed into the paper bag viciously, Calle patting his back. “In and out, in and out, don’t kill yourself Vegard, in and out,” he said until Vegard broke away for air and Øyvind wiped the tears, all three men were doing this on repeat. By the time an hour passed, Vegard was close to calling the police and having an entire party search all of Bergen for his brother.

Calle was the one to smack him against the head. “Calm down, I’m sure Anders got him.” 

“I don’t know Calle,” Øyvind said. “Anders would have called.”

Calle glanced at Vegard before leaning closer to Øyvind. “Maybe Bård is keeping him busy,” Calle winked, “if you know what I mean.”

Øyvind kicked up his knee, smacking Calle’s thigh and making the long-haired teen curse and shout. Øyvind winked. “Not the place or time to be making jokes, Calle.” 

Calle glared at Øyvind but didn’t say anything.

“I’m giving them five more minutes,” Vegard said, crunching up the paper bag. “If nothing, I’m calling the police.” 

Øyvind smothered Calle’s objections with his hand. “Okay.”

Calle bit Øyvind’s hand; the tall man yanking his hand away instantly, allowing Calle to talk. “Vegard, if we call the cops, everyone’s going to get involved. Just gives them more time!”

“More time?!” Vegard yelled, not caring people were still around. “It’s getting late and I don’t know where my little brother is! Anders isn’t picking up his phone, and we’ve been sitting on our asses for God knows how many hours! So no, I’m _not_ going to give them any more _fucking_ time. _”_

Both Calle and Øyvind were taken back by Vegard’s rage, but they understood how he felt, even if they didn’t have siblings of their own. Bård was their baby brother and if the worst were to happen to him, they would never be able to forgive themselves.

So the three boys sat in silence, Vegard mentally counting _45, 46, 47, 48, 49,_ Øyvind silently praying, and Calle walking around, always looking in the distance, hoping he’ll see a familiar face. 

In a couple of seconds, Calle looked up one final time and saw Anders carry a limp dirt-covered body in a _Superman_ shirt.

“Oh my fucking God,” Calle muttered. “Oh God, please no.”

Vegard sprang from his spot, standing beside Calle, his eyes in the same direction.

“No,” Vegard choked out, “oh God, please fucking no.” Nausea was rushing inside of him, his legs began to wobble, his body trembling. Vegard felt his body shut down. “He’s dead, oh my fucking God he’s dead.” 

Calle pulled the sobbing Vegard into his arms. “I’m so, so sorry,” 

Øyvind walked up next to the crying boys, perplexed by their behavior. “Why are you crying? Anders is back with Bård!”

“Yeah, his fucking corpse,” Calle spat as Vegard sobbed harder.

Anders made his way to the trio, head tilt in confusion. “Um…I found him.”

Bård stirred in his sleep, eyes fluttering open, “Where am I?”

Calle’s and Vegard’s eyes shot open. “ _Oh my God, he’s alive!”_

Øyvind smacked his face with his palm. “I’m dealing with idiots.” 

Vegard shoved Calle away from him, rushing to Bård. “Oh my God, you’re alive.”

Bård blinked in confusion. “No shit, Sherlock.”

Vegard ignored Bård’s snappy comment, grabbing his brother’s head and pressing a huge kiss on his forehead. Vegard was thrilled his was brother was safe and _alive._  

Calle wiped his tears, acting as if nothing happened. “So, um, where did you found him?”

“Dumpster,” Anders answered, eyebrows raised as he saw Vegard pet Bård’s hair, “In the eighth alley I checked.”

“Explains why you two smell like shit,” Øyvind commented, turning his nose away from the smell.

“I don’t care,” Vegard said, “as long as you’re safe I’m happy.” Bård smiled, just when Vegard broke down. “I’m so, so sorry for saying those words, Bård. I never meant them; I was being an asshole and I just…”

“It’s okay,” Bård placed his hand on Vegard’s trembling shoulder, “Let’s just go home.”

Vegard sniffed, “Lets.” He playfully hit Bård’s knee but instead of a laugh, he heard a cry of pain.

“Don’t,” Anders said, a little too late. “Don’t touch his legs.”

“What happened?” Vegard quickly asked, a wave of anxiety washing over him. “Is he hurt? What happened?!”

“I…,” Bård whimpered. “I think I broke my ankle.”

“More like sprained,” Anders corrected. “It’s sprained, not too badly but it needs to be treated.”

“We better start heading home,” Calle stated, pointing his finger towards the route. “Let’s start walking.”

Bård yawned and rested his head on Anders’ shoulder. “Wake me up when we get there.”

“Want me to carry him?” Vegard asked. “You’ve been holding him for a while.”

“I got it.” Anders smiled, looking down at the peaceful Bård asleep in his arms, snoring lightly. “He’s safe with me.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got to writing it yay

“Well this is my stop,” Calle commented, his thumb sticking out of his curled fist, pointing to a red brick house. The porch lights were on, allowing the group of young men to see Calle’s father, Frode Larsen, sitting on his bench, a cigarette lit between his fingers and a colorless book in his hands. Frode was a nice gentleman, sweet to the core, but was easily annoyed when his only son disobeyed his rules. Even though Calle was nineteen years old, he still lived with his parents and was condemned by their rules.

His curfew was 10:00 p.m.

It was almost midnight.

Hoping to escape his father’s wrath, Calle devised a small plan. He squatted down, shoving both Øyvind and Anders – who still had a fully asleep Bård in his arms - to their knees. “Okay, this is the plan.”

“Wha -” Øyvind tried to argue, but Calle clasped his hand over his mouth.

“No interruptions, this is serious.”

“My legs are gonna give out,” Anders muttered, he was wobbling slightly with the extra weight in his tired arms.

“ _Jesus Christ_ ,” Vegard rolled his eyes, squatting down as well to make eye contact with Calle. “What the hell are you doing?

“Silence, Ylvisåker!” Calle whisper-yelled, pointing a finger at the curly haired man, “No more interruptions or I will make you eat dirt.”

Vegard opened his mouth to argue but decided against it, sitting still in silence and annoyance.

Calle picked up a long stick and dragged it against the dirt, creating his blueprint for his so-called master plan. “We need to get to my room without my dad seeing us. The only entrance is the bathroom window which is only three doors down from my room. On that tree over there, there’s a branch that leads to the lower roof. If we can get there, we can easily jump into the window. But the thing is my dad has the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a hound, so we need a distraction. Since he’s no longer joining us, Vegard will create a diversion by climbing on the tree and making animal noises.” 

“What animal?” Vegard asked quickly, hands rising to cover his face just in case Calle actually decided to throw dirt.

Calle shook his head, “Uh, how the hell should I know? Err…a fox!”

“What does a fox say?” Vegard asked because he honestly had no idea, “Does it even make a sound?”

Calle didn’t answer, in fact not a word was said, just a grunt when he lunged towards Vegard with a fist full of dirt.

 _“ **CALLE NO** ,” _Anders whisper-screeched as Øyvind failed to yank Calle back by the collar of his jacket.

Calle and Vegard wrestled on the ground, cursing and grunting back and forth until Calle had the upper hand, pinning Vegard down helplessly as he raised the mound of dirt.

Vegard’s eyes widened in actual fear, “You wouldn’t.”

Calle eased down but still kept his gaze locked with Vegard’s as he lifted half his weight off Vegard’s pinned body. Everyone was quiet, too scared and shocked to speak.

Slowly Calle raised the hand full of dirt and spoke in a menacing voice no one has ever heard from him before, “I said… _no interruptions."_  

A gasp escaped Vegard’s lips when Calle’s hand swung down, but the long-haired man stopped suddenly, the dirt only inches away from Vegard’s mouth. Calle softly muttered, “ _He’s coming.”_

Before anyone could ask _who_ , Frode’s voice boomed loud and clear, “ _Who’s out there?”_ What followed next was the click of a shotgun.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Øyvind sighed, head dropping into his palms. “Why can’t I have normal friends _with_ normal fathers?”

“Go to the tree; go to the tree,” Calle ordered in frantic whispers, “ _To the trees!”_

Øyvind was the first one climbing, his sturdy arms clinging onto the blunt branches as he hauled himself up. Anders didn’t head to the trees; he was frantically running in small circles whispering, “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.” 

Øyvind looked down; Calle was still on top of Vegard but both men were dead silent, hoping Frode will go back inside and _drop the gun_. Anders was slowly backing away, trying to avoid the streetlight so he could slip into the darkness.

Frode steadied his shotgun; worn eyes squinting as he peered into the darkness, “Must be those damn animals.” 

Calle softly nudged Vegard, whispering, “Make the fox noises.”

“I don’t know how they sound like!” 

Calle growled, his hand scooping some spare dirt.

Vegard panicked, shouting whatever came to mind, “ _Jacha-chacha-chacha-chow!”_  

Calle instantly clamped a hand over Vegard’s mouth, bringing their faces close together, noses crushed, so Calle could whisper-yell, “What the **_fuck_** was that?!”

Øyvind was startled greatly, almost falling off the goddamn tree. Anders jumped, almost dropping Bård during the little commotion.

Frode cocked his shotgun. “What the hell was that?”

Everyone except Anders stood still; he was almost out of the streetlight. Anders took a few steps backwards, he was so close.

Frode shook his head. “Waste of my time,” he said as he lowered his gun and turned to his house, “Where the hell is Calle anyway?” 

Vegard felt Calle tense above him.

Frode only moved an inch when Anders took another step backwards, his sneaker snapping some twigs in half.

Frode instantly spun around, the once champion sharpshooter firing his gun. The bullet landed right between Vegard’s spread legs.

“ ** _Oh my fucking God,_** _”_ Calle screamed, jumping off the wide-eyed, _shrieking_ Vegard Ylvisåker, and launching himself onto the tree, Øyvind’s hand grasping Calle’s to haul him upwards.

Vegard stumbled to his feet, trying to avoid another of Frode’s bullets and catch up with the running Anders who got a head start and was already seven blocks down.

Frode lowered his gun; he would let the two teenagers he saw run live…for now.

+

 

“How the hell is Bård still asleep?” Anders asked in bewilderment. “Gunshots and he didn’t even stir.”

Vegard finally caught up with Anders, a panting mess with his hands on his knees, trying to cope with his near death experience.

Arching himself up, Vegard brushed his curls back and chuckled. “Bård could sleep through _anything_. It’s impossible to wake him up sometimes.”

Anders chuckled as Vegard wiped his brow, the curly-haired man looking behind his shoulder, hoping not to see a forty-something man running with a shotgun. “Jesus, that was – _that_ was something alright.”

“Can you even carry a firearm in Bergen?” Anders asked. “I don’t want Calle’s dad to get in trouble, but we could seriously have gotten hurt.”

“Calle mentioned something about his dad being a hunter in his youth,” Vegard said, beginning to walk on the route home. “I guess the old guy kept the gun.” 

Anders laughed. “At least that’s over, and by the way what the hell was that noise back there?”

Vegard stopped, his cheeks burning red. “That was, err, me sounding like a fox.” 

“Your _attempt_ at sounding like a fox,” Anders corrected with a laugh. “I thought it was some kind of spawn of Satan.”

Vegard scoffed, “Oh yeah? And you think you can make a better fox sound?”

Shaking his head, Anders explained, “I think it would sound more like wolf.” Lifting his neck to imitate a howling wolf, Anders hollered, “ _A_ _-oo-oo-oo-ooo!”_

Impressed, Vegard joined in, _“_ _Woo-oo-oo-ooo!”_

The howling was cut off with both boys succumbing into fits of laughter.

Vegard clutched his chest as he patted Anders’ back. “We sound like idiots!”

Bård began to stir in Anders’ arms, crushing his nose into Anders’ chest, muttering, “Will you two shut up.” 

Anders rolled his eyes. “Our _laughing_ woke you up?”

“With you two being so damn loud yes,” Bård snapped back. 

Vegard opened his mouth to say something but Bård cut him off, “And what the hell was that anyway?”

“What was what?”

“That jacha-chacha bullshit,” Bård said with a smirk. “No fox in the history of mankind has made that sound.” 

Vegard perked an eyebrow. “And I suppose you know how it sounds like?”

Bård frowned, turning his body so his back was facing Vegard, muffling his voice as he pressed his forehead on Anders’ chest. “I dunno hatee-hatee-hatee ho or some shit.” 

Vegard threw his head back. “That was worse than mine!”

“Oh Christ,” Anders said through his giggle fits, “you could make a song out about that.”

“Yeah and it’d be the worse song ever,” Bård added. “Then again, you and Calle made that porn song.”

“We were _drunk!_ ” Anders argued, but both the Ylvisåkers broke out into laughter. Anders had no choice to join in.

A string of endless giggling and cackling ensued until, “Where the **hell** have you been, _Vegard Urhiem Ylvisåker_?!”

Everyone jumped, Anders _again_ almost dropping the sixteen year old boy and Vegard shrieked bloody murder, “ _Ma!”_

Helga Ylvisåker raised her brow, but she stood her ground with her arms crossed and right foot tapping impatiently on the floor. “It is nearly one in the morning. Your father and I were worried sick! And why is your brother covered in dirt, smelling like a trash can?” 

Vegard stumbled over his words, “Well you see, um…uh…” Vegard didn’t want to put the blame entirely on Bård, he did have a part in it as well, “We were walking and -”

“Bård and I got in a fight,” Anders cut in, ignoring Vegard’s mouthed _what are you doing?_ “It was really stupid, Mrs. Ylvisåker. I got Bård upset. He ran but he twisted his ankle so that’s why I’m carrying him. It was my fault, Mrs. Ylvisåker. I’m so, so terribly sorry.” 

Helga’s face softened. “Oh Anders, it’s alright. Just call next time, okay?”                                                                            

“Sure thing, Mrs. Ylvisåker,” Anders grinned, ignoring Bård rolling his eyes.

Helga had a soft spot for Anders, his mother being one of her best friends. Helga always went easy on Anders, letting him get away with almost everything.   

Helga looked at her son, pushing Bård’s hair out of his face. “Are you alright, dear?” 

Bård shrugged. “I’ve been better.” 

Helga softly laughed at her son’s humor, just like his father.

“Vegard,” Helga said, keeping her gaze on her second youngest, “can you get Bård’s bed ready?”

Vegard silently agreed, jogging into the house leaving the three alone. 

“Bård, you need a bath,” Helga commented, scrunching up her nose. “Anders can you be a dear and take him to the bathroom while I get him some clothes? It’s upstairs on your right, can’t miss it.”

“Uh, sure thing,” Anders stuttered. This was his first time visiting the Ylvisåker household, and it had to happen in the most awkward way possible. “Whatever you say, Mrs. Ylvisåker.”

Bård groaned in annoyance; he was so embarrassed. As Anders entered through the open door, Bård avoided his Pa’s and Bjarte’s confused gazes,

“Good evening, Mr. Ylvisåker,” Anders managed to say, he was just as overwhelmed as the teen he carried in his arms. “I’m just here to give Bård a bath. No, uh, I meant – uh, where’s the bathroom?’ 

Bård wondered maybe if he rolled over, the impact of him falling will cause a concussion, because he wanted nothing more but to leave this awkward situation.

Mr. Ylvisåker raised a brow. “It’s upstairs.”

“Thank you.” Anders quickly scurried out of the living room, practically racing up the staircase, and making a sharp turn into the bathroom, slamming the door shut. Anders rested the back of his head against the door, groaning, “Kill me.”

“Count me in,” Bård added, shifting his body. “Put me down while you’re at it.”

Anders obeyed, setting Bård down on the toilet, and stepping away slowly since he didn’t know what to do at the moment. 

Using his hands, Bård propped his leg on the edge of the bathtub. The younger boy leaned back, stretching his body with a yawn. “I’ve been curled up like a ball all day and now, my body feels all messed up.” 

Anders chuckled softly as he stood against the wall. “My arms are tired as well.”

Bård smiled but the scene was becoming awkward, just two young men standing apart in a bathroom. Anders was contemplating either keeping Bård some company or heading back to Calle’s when Bård broke the silence. “Do you think we should get the bath running?”

“Wait, what?” Anders shook his head, feeling a bit embarrassed that he wasn’t listening. “Say that again.”

Bård didn’t seem to mind. “I think we should run the bath.”

“Oh,” Anders said, getting off the wall. “I can do that.” 

Anders kneeled beside the tub, turning the right knob as cold water poured. Twisting the other knob, he stretched his hand out so he could test the warmth of the water. The task was done in silence.

Bård didn’t bother to strike up a conversation. Instead, he began undressing himself, lifting his shirt over his head and throwing it into the hamper. Keeping himself occupied with running his hand through the water, Anders didn’t notice until he heard Bård unzip his jeans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 is in the works   
> dun dun dunnnnnnn

**Author's Note:**

> Jfc that was long. Chapter two coming soon  
> Feedback would be awesome!  
> \- fifi


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